The Boys of Bridlington
by DarthTrekkie2016
Summary: In an attempt to show how Sensha-Dou is just as much a gentleman's sport as a lady's, the co-ed team of Bridlington High seeks to win the European International. Can they surpass the shock Ōarai gave the world last year?
1. Chapter 1: Preparations

The Boys of Bridlington

Chapter 1

Preparations

The soft sea breeze swept across the forest aboard Bridlington High's carrier. The distant calls of birds gave warning they were close to land. The otherwise quiet was disturbed by a chorus of explosions, and the rumbling of the machines. Thankfully the lads had kept their promise, and had held off on discharging the guns until 9:45 exactly. Despite this, there were always those who cursed the morning practice.

The Bridlington Tankery Club had very little concern, of course. Today was perhaps the most important moment yet for them, and they needed to be prepared. They might had relaxed a bit more if it were _just_ their first match. But a match against Antwerp High was nothing to shrug off. It was also a first due to the machines they used. They brought to the table a batch of Japanese tanks, so Bridlington would be fighting out of their usual range of opposition.

The setting of their battle would be a first for both teams. The match was scheduled to take place a few miles northeast of Alexandria, in Egypt. Those behind organizing this friendly couldn't resist having a British v "German" (Even though Antwerp High was Belgian) match in North Africa. Though Egypt brought deserts to mind at first, the Major assured the team that the field was primarily farmland. On top of that, the longer voyage had given the team ample time to train. And they'd both arrive early, to scope out the field and get a feel for it.

But just being their first true match was not what made this important to Bridlington. Tensions were high due entirely to something else. For the first time in a long time, some of the tanks taking the field would be crewed by men. Boys, to be more realistic. Though Major Lawrence fancied himself proper military material, going so far as to give himself his oh-so-official rank, he had only this year been allowed into official tankery matches with his team. Even if his theory and tactics and drills were all top of the line, they were yet to be proven effective. If all went well, Bridlington would very likely be accepted into the international.

Once more a thunderous roar of cannon. One of the targets, an old PzKpfw IV which had been lent to the school for training, erupted in an explosion. The rest, most old T-34s, sat silent, though one had lost its track.

"Oi, which one of you was that? That fired at the Panzer?" Captain Walker shouted into the radio.

"Aye Captain, it's Badger 4!" The hatch to one of the Churchills popped open, and the commander of the crew popped up waved to the hilltop. Walker turned to Lawrence, who stood attentively. Lawrence gave a nod to the Captain, and a salute to the commander.

"Excellent shot girls. Looks like you hit the ammo rack." Walker exclaimed into the radio. "Now, who here thinks they can top that?"

A brief period of silence followed the Captain's question. Lawrence took the mic from Walker, and spoke up.

"Come now people. That's hardly the attitude to take before our first match. I want each of you to, at the _least_ , set those targets ablaze. Show the Captain and me how well our instruction has payed off."

A round of: "Yes Major!" rang out over the radio, and in half a minute another volley was let out. The only sound that dared overpower that of the club was the blare of the ship's horn.

3:12 PM, Alexandria Docks

The Tankery Club stood gathered in a field. Below them, the ship had docked and people were already unloading. It was a hot day, but they were all still in uniform. They had made a point of staying in the proper outfit until dismissed by Lawrence.

Lawrence, Walker, and the Lieutenant, Hensley, were stood before them. Each had a degree of tactical genius to them, and each was a bit of a history buff. Though Lawrence was the one who originally insisted on the whole behavior of his team, Walker and Hensley were now every bit involved as their Major.

"Well, ladies and gentlemen. In a day's time, we show the world that this wondrous sport, this powerful art, belongs just as much to the lads as to the girls." Mild applause, and a few whistles of approval. "Antwerp has some heavy hitters. From what I hear, they plan to use a few O-I heavies in this match. They seem to expect us to play like St. Gloriana." A few laughs at this. "I'm sure we'll give those girls quite a surprise tomorrow. But no matter how well we think we'll do…" Lawrence paused. "We _know_ we'll do." A good many shouts of agreement for that one. "We can't brush them off. So far, they're undefeated in their local league. Who's for giving them a taste of what the British armour can do?!"

Massive applause erupted from the club. Even some of the passersby gave a jubilant shout. The three officers stood beaming. They let the club let out some more celebration before quieting them down.

A loud horn sounded from the bay nearby. The Antwerp ship was coming into the dock as well. The Bridlington club rushed quickly to the guardrail nearest to them, and gave a salute to them. Lawrence pulled some binoculars from his pack, and gazed across the way. He saw the Antwerp club by their own rail, waving and wishing them well. When he noticed one of their members gazing back through their own binoculars, Lawrence tipped his hat to her slightly. He saw the girl laugh, before giving a small curtsy.

After the spectacle and exchange of their rival ship docking, the club was dismissed. The team mates immediately made for their homes, for quick showers and more appropriate attire. Lawrence was quickly greeted by the girl in command of Badger 4, the team with perhaps the best gunner in the club. He often told them this, just as often kindly neglecting to mention their driver needed some work.

"Ah, Lily. Off home quickly?" He beamed a friendly smile her way.

"Mhm." She nodded, returning his smile. "The crew was wondering if you'd like to…" She glanced back quickly, before finishing. "If you would like to join us Lawrence."

He cast a quick glace backward to spot her fellow crew tightly bunched together, giggling and hiding their faces with their hands. He chuckled a bit to himself before answering.

"Well, why not. We should unwind this evening after all."

He agreed to meet them at a plaza, a short walk into the city. Though Alexandria was a new place for them, they had been kindly gifted with some maps for their visit.

5:26 PM, El-Tahrir Square

Lawrence wandered aimlessly around the small park, looking very foreign and very lost indeed, as he began to wonder if he had somehow misheard Lily's instructions. He was beyond thankful when he heard her call out for him. He was slightly concerned at first, however, that she too was lost, as her crew was nowhere to be found. Despite this, he hurried over to where she was sat.

She smiled meekly, her eyes looking elsewhere. "So, um… I think my friends may have been up to something." She gestures around at all the empty bench around her, clearly indicating they should have been there by now. "I…Haha…" She laughed weakly, reluctantly making eye-contact.

Lawrence, despite his inexperience in such things, could take the hint. "Ah, I see. Well… Do you even want to bother waiting to see if they turn up?" He grinned a little.

She sighed, and rose from the bench. "I don't think they're even planning on leaving the ship." With that, the two of them walked off in search of someplace to eat.

...

Despite the rather amateur set-up by Lily's friends, it was somewhat successful. Though only just passable as a date, the two managed to enjoy themselves, and tour the city a small amount. Just past nine, the two made their way back onto the ship. Before Lawrence had a proper chance to wish her a good evening, she was whisked away by her friends, their laughter echoing in the cool night air.

Despite himself, Lawrence allowed himself to slip back into his regular thoughts. "The calm before the storm." He thought. He chuckled, but he also knew he was somewhat right. Tomorrow would be an important date. Either this little push of his for a recognized friendly match would make co-ed teams more realistic a consideration, or he would embarrass himself and his team.

"So yeah, no pressure Lawrence." He whispered under his breath. He was immediately thankful for the relaxing evening he had gotten, as it was an excellent counter to his fears.


	2. Chapter 2: The First Battle

Chapter 2

The First Battle

A massive trail of dust was kicked up behind the Bridlington Tank Club, all machines leisurely driving forward along the trail. The day was graced by a mild breeze, unfortunately only slightly alleviating the powerful heat. Hensley was stood slightly out of the commander's hatch of Bishop 1, the Comet he had led since his first day.

The entire club had come, bringing a total of eighteen vehicles. Bridlington brought with them three Comets, five Cromwells, five Cruiser Mk IVAs, and five Churchills. The Churchills led the convoy now, setting pace for the drive. The Major was in the very front Churchill, Badger 1, and Walker in the Cruiser Rook 1. All three were propped up, waving at the occasional onlooker. The reactions were mixed, some finer dressed ladies scoffing at the sight of them, while some younger girls waved and smiled excitedly. Most of the men they saw wished them luck.

A young boy who was off to school almost caused a scene, as he rushed forward toward the convoy. The Major made no order to stop, however, once he saw the child clamber successfully aboard. He spoke quick Egyptian Arabic, and naturally Lawrence was at a loss. Rather than be disheartened, the boy laughed, and pulled a note from his pocket. Once Lawrence had taken it, the boy slipped down from the tank just as well as he had leapt up. Hensley and Walker both gave him a quick salute as they passed by, and the boy waved them off.

Lawrence unfolded the note. There was rather messy Arabic writing on the top, but below it was a much nicer handwriting, and in English no less. Written down were the words, "I hope you win. I want to be like you when I am older." Without a word or other reaction, Lawrence carefully folded the letter, and tucked it into the pocket of his uniform.

11:25 AM, South of Abu Qir

Two lines of eighteen tanks each faced one another, their crews before them. Though Antwerp had a few more, they had been kind to limit themselves to Bridlington's number. The Antwerp team had a deal of confidence. The two monsters of steel that were the O-Is sat idle, easily the largest machines on the field. Lawrence and Walker were deep in last minute strategic conversation, as Hensley gave the crews and their machines another quick inspection. Ammunition was plentiful. Fuel would easily last the round. The Lieutenant was quite pleased, and reported the satisfactory results to the Major.

"Very good Hensley. I do believe it's just about time."

Hensley could sometimes swear the Major had built a clock into his head, as the beginning game rituals were near immediately underway. Lawrence and the leader of the Antwerp club shook hands, and wished each other well. The Bridlington team gave a salute, which was returned by the Antwerp girls. The two teams then embarked, and began the drive to their starting positions.

A soft voice over the radio spoke out. "Badger 4 here, all good on the plan Major?"

Lawrence nodded to his radioman, who laughed a bit as he responded. "Aye Badger 4, proceed as planned. Set up in the town and get ready."

Two nights prior…

Eighteen were seated around a table in the "war-room", an empty classroom appropriated by the Major for the club. A height map of the field was in the center. They had debated fervently on the subject of tactics, having broken briefly for tea. Lawrence had said he wanted to find something, and left just as the break had begun. Keeping his renown for punctuality intact, he threw open the door at promptly four thirty. He laid another map down, this of the town to the north of the field, Abu Qir.

No one said anything, knowing full well the Major would explain himself. The devilish grin on Lawrence's face relented at this, but only slightly. Apparently he had hoped for someone to question his idea. He quickly recovered, and carried on.

"This, my friends, is the town of Abu Qir. As I'm sure you know, it is the peninsular town due north of where the battle will be set." Silence. He carried on, unperturbed. "The League's decided size of battlefields being as it is…" He took a pen from the table, and drew a line halfway through a small man-made harbor on the side of the town, easily including more than half of Abu Qir. "All of this is fair ground. The townspeople will most certainly be brought beyond that line a distance, allowing us to use their town for our advantage."

At this, Hensley spoke up. "I thought our mobility was our surprise, and our advantage. Wouldn't putting ourselves in a city take this away from us?"

Lawrence waved a maniacal finger in his direction, eyes gleaming. "Would it? With their machines' sizes and shapes, maneuvering the town would be even harder on them." He grew more serious with his next consideration. "Besides, our armour is rather lacking. This is why our Churchills will stay back and give them a bit of a fight, while our lighter machines make for cover."

The group spent another good hour going over the "what-ifs" and contingencies, but the bare bones of the strategy had been decided.

11:45 AM

The signal to start was given. The main body of the Bridlington team made north, while the Badger group moved forward to open up on the enemy. There was but a gentle hill separating Bridlington's machines from the enemy. Walker gave a farewell salute to Lawrence as he led the rest of the forces away, before sitting down and shutting the hatch.

Lawrence too disappeared into his. His group plowed forward as fast as possible, beginning to crest the hill. Truth be told, Lawrence didn't care if all his Churchills were knocked out. Being an elimination match, the rest of his team could very well win without him. If he could bite and hold them for a short bit, his forces could reach cover and set the ambush. He could very well take down a few of the enemy as well.

As they rose, he saw that he was right to assume his plan would work. Clearly, they had expected that Bridlington would bring slower machines, rather than what they had. Antwerp had sent four tanks down the road to Abu Qir, but the rest were making to the hill. Including their heavies. Machine guns and cannon unloaded on Badger group, but their armor bounced the first rounds. A volley went off from them, hitting a few of the enemy, but there was no time to assess damage. More rounds from the enemy were inbound. The exchange of fire was brief, and afterword, the Antwerp team moved toward the town in victory. Lawrence popped out, overlooking the field. One Chi-Ri, two Chi-Nu, and a Chi-Ro had been disabled.

"Well, hardly an awful trade." He peered north, feeling successful as he saw the last Cromwell round the corner of a building into the town. He then turned his attention to those opponents who had been knocked out. Some had pulled themselves from their machines. "It may be a small while before the recovery trucks come." He lifted himself out, and produced a pack of cards from his jacket. "Poker? Whist? Anyone?"

…

Hensley led his group through the town, then gave his commanders the order they longed to hear. "Break away, break away. Pick your targets wisely and fire at will. Good hunting lads." The Comets scattered, his own steaming down an alley. In the small square they found themselves in, they pulled in against the wall, with their gun aimed down the alley they came from. They watched as the rest of their team drove on, then stood in wait.

They hardly had to wait long, as the enemy mediums came quickly behind the Cromwells, rounds flying up and down the street. One enemy, a Chi-To he supposed, took a shot to the tracks and stopped in front of the alley. "Fire!" The shot hit square in the side of the turret, and the white inoperable flag popped from its container.

"Forward, cut off the ones that got past. Get the gun reloaded!" Bishop 1 sped forward, quickly turning the turret so as not to strike the gun against the shop before them. They pulled just into another alley, and paused briefly. A light tank would be their next prey, a Chi-He that was in pursuit of a fleeing Cromwell. They quickly put a shot in its side, and the tank was down. Another machine rolled up, and Hensley couldn't have been less concerned as to what it was. "Reverse, reverse! Put us around the building."

The shot struck them as they began to enter the turn, thankfully bouncing off and striking the shop instead. Rubble and dust quickly filled the viewports. "Continue reversing, get us into the street."

As they pulled out onto a main road, smashing a small stall of sorts, Walker shouted over the radio. "This is Rook 1, sound off! Who's left?"

Hensley's radioman shouted back. "Bishop 1 still standing." Similar reports were belted over the comms. In total, nine were left. They were down one Comet, all the Churchills, and three Cruisers.

Walker spoke out cheerily to this. "Bloody good form boys! Get to rendezvous point B. The O-Is met us at A." Quite pleased himself, Hensley reaffirmed the order. Bishop 1 sped off down the road, firing a parting shot at their earlier assailant. The round bounced harmlessly, striking another building instead.

…

Bishop 1 crashed through a wall into the square, apparently disrupting a moment of calm, as their team's turrets quickly spun, turning back once they saw it was one of their own. Hensley popped open the hatch, seeing Walker had done the same already. "Alright Captain, plan?" Walker nodded, and pointed down a road opposite where Hensley's tank had entered. "Lead Bishop 3 and the Brigand group down that road. Set up at the naval academy. Rook 5 and I will buzz about their ranks a bit. I think we have a way to deal with the O-I's."

Hensley cocked an eyebrow. "Both of them?" To this, Walker offered only a shrug. Hensley reentered his tank and shut the hatch. The plan was relayed to the others, and the Cromwells and Comets sped down the road.

Walker watched as they left, then slipped back into his own vehicle. "Alright lads. I promised a plan, and though it isn't a robust one, it is a plan." He rubbed his palms together, and nodded to his driver and radioman. "Ramming speed boys."

…

Aliza's expertise of command had served her well in matches prior. But the Bridlington team was different than her expectations. Contrary to most of the British teams she had faced, they chose to play for mobility rather than armor. No matter, she thought. Antwerp still had an advantage of two tanks, had she counted correctly. And both her heavies were in play. She was roused from her slight doze by her driver's report that they were on the road toward the next point of interest. The O-I certainly made for a comfortable ride.

The elevated road they were on made way straight to a naval academy building. No doubt, being a relatively defensible location, that's where Bridlington was off to. Her mediums sped ahead of the heavies, meaning to hold them in place until the big guns arrived. As the last one passed by, however, she was startled by a shot striking the side of her tank. "We aren't moving Frau Aliza!" Shouted her driver. "We've lost a track!"

"Was?" Aliza peered through each viewport she could, finally spotting the Cruisers speeding forward. The second put a shot into Antwerp's second O-I. This one struck above the tracks, in the flat of the armor. The inoperable flag popped up. "Feuer frei!" She gave the order, but the crusader struck into the side at full speed. Neither was knocked out, but now neither could move, or likely repair their tracks. The O-I's turret turned ever so slowly, neither machine gun able to hit the Cruiser. The main gun was nearly turned, when the one that had rammed her fired a second shot, above where the tracks were. The flag popped from the turret top.

The commander of the now stopped Cruiser threw open the hatch, as did his compatriot. The one who had ruined his tracks shouted to the other. "Go; put some shots in their backs!" The other disappeared, and the vehicle sped away, barely scraping the other O-I.

Aliza climbed from her vehicle, and glared at the smug looking commander. "…Scheiße."

…

Hensley watched as the Antwerp tanks moved cautiously through the gates of the naval academy, busted down to look as though Bridlington had entered. The Bridlington machines lay in ambush, in alleys or behind buildings, waiting on his signal to go. He noticed that neither O-I was present, but he noted that could be due entirely to their speed. That is, until one of the Cruisers sped down the road they had come from.

With renewed determination, Hensley gave the order, quickly relayed by his radioman. The pincers of the trap closed, and what was left of the battle was simply putting down those who persisted.

4:12 PM, Alexandria

It had been a decisive victory for Bridlington. Seven left operable to none, and an excellent display of tactics. Even the Major had been thoroughly entertained, managing to find some girls in Antwerp who were interested in learning whist. The Major had even lost a round.

Much to the visible chagrin of Aliza, Bridlington's convoy was applauded and cheered on as they made way to the dock. Lawrence made particular care to slide down to the side of the Cromwell he rode and hand a small boy a note. Though it was in English, he was sure whoever had translated the boy's own note would tell him what he said. The Bridlington tank club made their way up to the ship, and waved back to the crowd which had come to see them off. Despite their leader's poor sportsmanship, several other Antwerp girls were stood in the crowd, bidding them good luck for their future.

The club lined up in their regular fashion, awaiting the address from the Major. Lawrence turned, eyeing them all. As the ship left the dock, and after he made sure no one was there other than them, his seriousness faded. He leapt up, fist raised in victorious celebration. Seeing their leader was just as excited as they were, the order was broken, and their lines soon became a mess of hugs, handshakes, and cries of success. It was the first time since Lawrence had taken the reigns that they never formally adjourned for the day.


	3. Chapter 3: Two Distinct Evenings

Chapter 3

Two Distinct Evenings

9:30 PM, Bridlington School Flats

The afternoon had been one of ceaseless joy. The whole club had held a sizable feast in the cafeteria, and the Major had even gotten them all an assortment of cakes and pastries. The local bakeries had been eager to give discounts, or even free items, to the team for their first match's great success. Lawrence had made no move to decline any such gifts, though he was sure to tell them he was fine paying.

That had been an hour ago. Now, Lily and her friends had been shepherded by Abigail, her driver, into her flat. Nothing massive, just a small kitchen, bedroom, bathroom, and some extra living space. Only her typical group, the crew of Badger 4, was still with her. They were ready to unwind from the earlier insanity. The officers had proven more than capable hosts. Hensley had done well mingling with the crews; Walker had raised many a toast in the name of their victory; and Lawrence revealed a hidden ear for music, singing along with the crews of Brigand 2 and 3.

Abigail flopped down onto a small couch, feet over one of the arms. She pointed assertively at Lily, a motion that was entirely out of place for how she was sitting. "You aren't getting out of this like last night commander." She nodded to Hana and Danielle, who moved in front of the exit. Lacey took her shoulder, as if to stop her from trying any other dramatic escape. "You're telling us how last night went."

She sighed, but relented. She had known they'd do something like this eventually. She was at least grateful they didn't go too literal in their _interrogation_. After the first date they had set up for her, they had locked her in a closet until she told them about it. She took a seat in a chair, and the others' eyes widened in anticipation.

"Well, we didn't really do that much. We went to a nice place, L Passage."

Abigail butted in. "Oh oh! That sounds fancy! How was that?"

She thought briefly. "I wouldn't say fancy. It was a nice place though, and very high quality. Not too expensive either. At least, that's what Lawrence said."

Hana gave her thoughts. "What Lawrence said, eh? It was probably pretty costly then."

Lily sank into her seat a bit. She was never sure if they were genuinely interested, or just messing with her. They were the ones who insisted she needed a boyfriend, why make every discussion on him so prying?

"Well, it sounds like things went well, at any rate." Danielle seemed to have decided that was that, and nodded to the other three. Abigail looked as though she had more questions, but gave in anyway.

"Oh well. Hopefully things might get more interesting between you two soon." Lily shot Abigail an icy glare for her final remark. Finally, however, they moved on. Hana began to root through the movie case, and Danielle and Abigail went into the kitchen. Lily took the time to massage her temples, having gotten a minor headache from the noise of the prior celebration. Lacey took a seat on the couch, and seemed intent to immediately fall asleep.

Abigail and Danielle returned, while Hana literally muttered out judgements by the cover as she moved to the next case. Danielle carefully set five wine glasses on the table, and Abigail set a bottle down to accompany them. They set about pouring, and finally Hana gave a quick "Aha!" before rising from the case, a movie in hand.

"I didn't know you liked musicals Abi." She passed the movie to Abigail, who looked it over quickly.

"Oh, Les Miserables. I never actually got around to watching this. All I know is it's about the French Revolution." She handed it back, before taking a quick sip from her glass.

Hana laughed. "You know who'd be interested in that?"

Before she could continue, Lily interjected. "Actually, Lawrence is more into the World Wars. Though he has mentioned Napoleon once or twice."

Hana looked a bit taken aback. She feigned her over-exaggerated astonishment. "Gosh Lily, must everything be about Lawrence with you?" She quickly continued, before Lily had the chance to get up and smack her. "I was going to say Hensley."

The other three now looked to Hana, inviting her to explain further. "I mean, during the inspections we usually get to talking. You all know how they are with history, and Hensley go on about that period."

She grew more nervous as her three friends continued to stare at her, Lily leaning forward a bit, silently saying "Go on."

"Would you all stop looking at me like that?" She popped open the case. "Let's just put the movie on. Seriously, you guys are so weird."

The group couldn't stop themselves from laughing at her wriggling under pressure. Lily spent only a minute thinking about how, even though she had talked extensively to Hensley, and knew both those things about him, she still had thought of Lawrence.

9:30 PM, The War Room

Walker was pacing back and forth nervously, hands behind his head. Hensley was sure he'd worn out a path in the floor. Hensley himself was sat on the other end of the table, leaning back, hands clasped together. Despite his silent ridiculing of Walker, he was also quite nervous. After their celebration, the three had met in the war room, and after some brief discussion on the battle Lawrence had left to make a call to their contact in the League. The other two were left to wait in a silence heavy with concern.

Finally Lawrence returned. He shut the door behind him, and took his seat at the end of the table. Walker leaned over the edge of a chair, and Hensley sat more upright. They waited as Lawrence sat, pensive. After half a minute or so, he spoke.

"Well, I talked briefly with Ms. Levasseur. She and her personal colleagues were fairly impressed by our performance." Before Hensley or Walker could speak up, the Major raised his hand for silence.

"However…" With that one word, Walker turned away in frustration. Hensley set his head in his hands, feeling now the sweat on his forehead. As he wiped it away, he saw Walker return from two more brisk paces, and gesture for Lawrence to continue.

"There is still a considerable majority on the League's directorate that are unconvinced that a co-ed team could properly compare to the quality girls teams." Lawrence looked visibly pained just saying this. "They now shame not only us, but Antwerp as well. Undefeated in their local bracket and they supposedly aren't a quality team."

Hensley leaned back again, relocking his hands together. There was a moment's silence before he spoke up. "Is there any way to prove we're capable?"

Lawrence nodded. "Ms. Levasseur still thinks they can be won over. But, as evidenced here, simply showing we've the mettle for the International isn't enough to get our rule-change passed."

Walker and Hensley knew full well what he meant. Lawrence, despite obviously realizing this, still paused briefly to emphasize the importance of his next statement. "We will have to win it."

The three were still, and no one said a word. All were lost in their own thoughts. Walker drummed his fingers against the back of the chair, nodding slightly. Hensley and Lawrence sat, both staring off into space. Eventually, Walker turned himself around to sit on the back of the chair.

"We could very well do it you know. Win the International." Hensley turned his gaze to Walker as he said this, then quickly to Lawrence. As expected, in the short time since his announcement of this Herculean task, the typical grin had returned to his face. Hensley shook his head and sighed to himself.

"You know, there's a story that's a bit like this. A group of students trying to inspire revolution and change. I'm rather sorry to say, though, that it doesn't end all too well for them." His complaint lodged, he allowed himself to smile with the Major. He'd at least go down swinging.

The Major rose from his seat. "Well then gentlemen. Rest well. Tomorrow I expect a call as to whether or not we'll even get the chance to try our hand." He started to the door. "One more day before the storm…" He slid open the door and made his exit. Hensley couldn't help but laugh. Were anyone to have gotten that reference, of course it would have been the Major.

…

Lawrence lay sprawled out on his bed. He hadn't bothered to check the clock in a while. He had received the call far in advance to when he expected, as was necessary, to ensure the team would be told to come in early. He had quickly sent word to all the commanders to make sure everyone was to the war room bright and early tomorrow.

He had received the news he both longed for and dreaded: Bridlington would represent Britain in the European International. He had also received wishes of luck from another team leader, presumably the one who would have been participating had it not been for this experiment. All the more reason to prove this was worth-while, he thought.

"Well then Lawrence. Tomorrow truly is the judgement day." He allowed himself to peek at the clock. 12:45 AM. "You should probably get some sleep." He proceeded to stay awake, eyes fixed on the ceiling, refusing to shut.


	4. Chapter 4: The Bracket

Chapter 4

The Roster

Author's Note: **EXPOSITION!** I'll be honest; this chapter won't be very interesting. It's just an establishment of the tournament and the nations taking part. Don't fret however, next chapter we get a nice proper match! It's also the shortest so far… On with it then. I promise the next one'll make up for it. (also sorry about the wait, have been otherwise occupied, be it with other writing or the holidays)

7:41 AM, War Room

The club had been woken early and corralled into the war room by the commanders. Cups of coffee were scattered across the room, barely managing to battle back the sleep from some of them. A television had been wheeled into the room, and Lawrence stood behind it. He shifted nervously, eyes scanning his team. When the last of them were finally shoved inside by Walker, Hensley shut the blinds and the TV was turned on. Just in time too, as the roaring crowd lasted only a minute before an announcer's voice began narrating the proceedings.

"Paige Hopkins here, reporting from the Fiftieth European International Tankery Tournament. We're just about to begin the announcements for national representation!" Several flags hung from the cieling, one for every nation participating. A large screen was behind them, ready to display the tournament's match-ups. The team looked to Lawrence, who nodded to them with a slight smile.

The representatives weren't all that shocking. Barcelona High for Spain, Nantes for France, Wrocław for Poland. There were two mild surprises from the majors, with Munich representing Germany and a small-town school of Nizhny representing Russia. The biggest shock, of course, came when the British team was announced.

"And now for the British team's announcement, and…" The crowd's reaction was rather mixed. There was considerable booing, some confused faces who clearly didn't know what was so different about Bridlington's team, but thankfully a good many cheers. "Well. I suppose we'll get to see just how Bridlington holds up when compared to the traditional team. Good luck to them." It was audible that saying that last part was difficult for her.

The rest of the teams were announced, and soon enough the mainstay of the event came: The first matches. "Match one announcement here. And it is… The Germans versus the Lithuanians! The battlefields will be announced next week, after the League has reviewed the match participants. Oh, we're about to get the teams for match two. And the first team is Antwerp High, for Belgium. Team two is… Ah, it's Bridlington! Match two will be Belgium versus Britain. I suppose we can hope they replicate their recent victory."

The whole room found themselves laughing. Lawrence leant on the cart. "Well then, I suppose they'll get another go at us rather soon."

Hensley shushed the room. "Pay attention. It's good to know who we might end up against." Lawrence nodded, and drew the team's attention back to the event.

"Match three's first participant is Hudiksvall Academy, from Sweden. And their opponent is Villach High, from Austria."

Walker nudged Lawrence, nodding to the TV. "So who'd you think would win then? The

Austrians again?"

He shook his head. "They usually win in these rivalry matches, but I've heard only good things about Hudiksvall. Both using German machines, correct?"

One of the commanders affirmed this, as the next match was announced. "Here's an interesting one. Mangalia, the Romanian team, versus Nantes. The last match between Romania and France in the International was nine years ago. The Romanian team of that year went on to the semifinals."

The last four matches were mostly ignored by the team, as they debated who would win, and who'd they end up against. The matches were as follows: Slovakia vs Bulgaria, Serbia vs Poland, the Netherlands vs Spain, and Italy vs Russia.

As Ms. Hopkins gave her closing statements, Lawrence turned off the TV. "Alright everyone. Our next match will be in about a week. I expect Antwerp to be training quite a bit to beat us in the next match. Don't expect me to let up on the regime just because we beat them once. Go rest, but be ready for practice at the regular time. On your way now!"

8:12 AM, Antwerp High Tankery Clubroom

"Die erste Mannschaft ist Antwerpen hoch! Ihr Gegner ist… Bridlington! Viel Glück Mädchen!" (Announcement of the teams being Antwerp and Bridlington, and wishing the girls good luck.) The team turned to Aliza. Her face was frozen in a mix of fury and sick delight. Clearly she had hoped to get another chance at Bridlington. They wouldn't be allowed to humiliate her, and she wouldn't allow them to go any further than they had already.

"Frau Aliza?" Her second shook her gently, which roused her from her trance. She stood suddenly. "Zur Garage! Wir müssen trainieren. Beeile dich!" (To the garage! We need to train. Hurry up!)

Five days later, European Tankery League Board Room

The many officials of the League, many former team leaders, sat gathered around a large table. A computer was set up in front of each, so as to scan for interesting battlegrounds. "Alright, so the German-Lithuanian match will be in a nice mid-point, in Sopot. Now, on to our more unusual two: the co-eds and Antwerp. Where to have them battle?"

"Let's have it in Britain. Perhaps on the coast?"

Ms. Levasseur scanned for an interesting locale. "Oh, how about Sandwich Bay? It's just north of Dover. We could put Antwerp on the beach; put Bridlington either inland or up the beach somewhat. Have it be like Antwerp invading Britain."

Several spoke their agreement. The director, Mrs. Foster, mulled it over. "Well… We can't go giving Bridlington an advantage. We'll go ahead and start them both just off the coast. I like the little story behind the location though. And the terrain's interesting enough. Very well, all in favor?"

Just over half the room raised their arms. "Well alright. The British-Belgian match will be in Sandwich Bay. On to Swedish-Austrian."

…

Lawrence had become used to taking morning jogs around town. It usually only took an hour, and it was a good way to wake himself up for practice. As he was making his way down the walkway on the edge, the ship's horn sounded. After a moment, he noticed they were pulling away from the shore. Just as he noticed this his phone began to sound.

An energetic voice came from the other end. He could almost hear Ms. Levasseur smiling. "Bonjour, Lawrence. Vous êtes bien?"

He couldn't help but laugh. She was always so cheerful. It was genuinely infectious. "Oui madame, je vous remercie."

"Très bien Lawrence. Anyway, I'm calling to tell you the match location's been set."

Lawrence watched over the rail as the town drifted away. "Well, we've just departed, so I'd figured as much. Where are we off to then?"

"Pas loin, to Sandwich Bay. You'll be getting a map of the battlefield soon. Just do what you did in Alexandria, non? Then all you need to do is… Well, win."

"Ha, yes. Hardly even a challenge. Also… Pas loin?"

"Oh, pardonnez-moi. Not far. Anyway, bonne chance Lawrence. Au revoir!"

He slipped his phone back into his pocket. It was a nice day out, and he still had roughly an hour before practice began. He watched as his hometown drifted away, and found himself missing home. As the horn sounded once more, he resumed his run. Sentiment or no, he had a schedule to keep to.


End file.
